The Ones Who Hunt In the Dark
by Mr. Trigger
Summary: From the black we come for thee. Run, it matters not.


**The Ones Who Hunt In the Dark**

**Chapter I**

The twisted realms of the Nexus of Shadows and its webway paths are truly something to behold. This realm most foul is a bizarre amalgamation of the warp and a creeping, morbid darkness. For in this city dwell the Dark Eldar, kindred to the Harlequins, Exodites and Craftworlders, the fallen rulers of the great wheel, sworn enemies of the Imperium of Man, as are all xenos.

For ten thousand years, Human crusaders have fought to regain their former glory, to fulfill a twisted version of their Emperor's vision. Amongst all of this, the Eldar have tried to keep what few of them are left, alive, no matter the cost, and the Dark Eldar? They laugh at us all, for they enslave us, Eldar, Tau, Human, Kroot, all of us. Why? Because they love us, they love the sweet pitch of our screams of pain, our writhes of agony, the blood dripping from our wounds and our tears of honey.

To them, we are all 'lesser' races – toys to be used, abused and thrown away (or in the case of Craftworlders, tools to be thrown away). How can we resist? They are gods; we are but their playthings, a passing fancy, much like we all are to the gods of the warp. Yet… we do. For all the Eldar try to cast us into the pit of hell, Dark or not, we resist with fire in our stomachs and prays on our lips; some of them have even come to respect us.

This story however, is not just about our galaxy, it is also about another – one where paragons of good, drifters and paragons of pragmatism fight against each other in the name of galactic peace, unity, strength or what have you. Amongst these factions, one has risen to prominence, one that makes not the use of not just the Force, but all forms of combat. They have only one god: reason, and to them reason has shown that betterment can come only from war – not bloodshed, but pure war, conflict uncomplicated by fickle politics. They are warriors and soldiers. They are not a nation, but a loose affiliation of clans with similar culture. They are not blood thirsty barbarians, nor are they 'civilized' warriors like the Echani (though the Echani certainly have their place). They embody the most pure aspect of life: survival. They and their few Sith allies see not petty, shorted sighted morals, but the betterment of all. Only war can bring enlightenment.

This story is one of both worlds, both riddled with war, both filled to the brim with scum, and so it is that the best of these would meet in Hell, in the Nexus, and later Commorragh. This convergence of the fittest, the strongest, the smartest, and the fastest will give rise to a Kabal like never seen before: a Kabal that embodies the swiftness and gracefulness of the Eldar and the Echani, a Kabal that embodies the pragmatism and brutality of Humanity, a Kabal that embraces the accuracy of the outcast and the Tau, a Kabal that embodies the Great Wheel and its sister galaxy.

Constantine shifted his balance to the right of his bleak cage, its grey plast-steel walls mocking him. His mistress had never called upon him, not once. The Eldar ranger, warlock, guardian, Wych, Incubi and Astartes had been, but, neither the strange, brooding large man in the cell next to him, nor the morose, raven haired old man, nor the silver-haired women nor men next to him were called, ever. No, they were left to her troops' devices. So far they had never been a rape, only torture. The Haemonculus had always made sure to pick up after the Kabalite warriors and wyches. The Haemonculus had always delighted in hearing their screams.

Constantine let his mind drift to a time when he was a 'free' man. Well… free wasn't the term he'd use. But, being an informant and hitman for a wealthy banking family on Terra was better than living as a disposable toy for these foul xenos. Constantine recalled to how got to the Nexus, or at least he attempted to – the exotic drugs that had been fed to him by the Haemonculus had made his recollection rather hazy and disordered. All he could recall was that it had something to do with going outside of the Segmentum Solar to the Koronus expanse with some drugged up, psychopathic womanizer of a Rogue Trader; then again, weren't they all? Needless to say, when they were captured he was the first one sucked dry, literally. The fool was placed into some ancient machine with esoteric workings that sucked out his soul faster than the Ruinous Powers would with the Terran nobility.

Constantine looked at his fellow captives. He had always been the intermediary – serving as an informant had given him a unique skill set, one that allowed for the handling of delicate situations. His skills as a killer were also very useful. Combined they made him a highly valuable asset; Constantine had even once been deigned capable enough to act as an assistant to an Adeptus Custodes. He was an interesting fellow to say the least. He was unlike any Astartes, Constantine had ever met: he stood a head taller than a space marine, had a good deal of humility and showed unshakable faith of the reasonable kind. For one of the Emperor's chosen, the giant's faith was certainly unexpected, but most definitely welcomed. In combat, he fought like a man possessed… nay, he fought like a devil dressed in a man's skin. Constantine had seen the man crush the personal guard of a trade heir's finest, with naught but his hands.

Constantine's mind drifted back on to his original thought track. He had always served as the intermediary. Constantine had gotten to know the old man, the muscular warrior (a man adorned with all manner of tribal tattoos), the Incubi, The ranger, the Wych, the guardian and the Astartes. The rest remained a mystery. Though the youngest of them (he had lost count by now, but he had been told that he looked like he was in his early twenties), he had been in the mistress's "care" the longest. Constantine had been in the Nexus the longest – the non-Eldar all come from outside of the webway, the Craftworlders came from Saim-Hann, the ranger came from some Exodite settlement and the Dark Eldar came from Commorragh. Ironic as it was, Constantine held seniority amongst them, he probably would outlive most of them: as a Terran, one at the employ of a wealthy family, he had been given many implants and had his DNA modified to ridiculous heights. Constantine, if he minded himself and was not subject to the capricious whims of his owner (which all slaves are), would probably live to 500-750 in relatively good shape… if luck were to permit it so.

Only few of his fellow "entertainers" (oh, how he loved the mistress's quotes) had given their names. Zidonus, a rather weird sounding name if one were to ask a Terran, was the old man. He cared an air of mysticism about him, an atmosphere of knowledge. He also carried a certain blood lust where ever he went. Constantine had suspicions that he was a psyker. The old, morose, clean shaven, raven haired coot certainly gave the impression to Constantine, and yet, the rest seemed none the wiser. Perhaps the rest were hiding their suspicions, that, or Constantine's life on Terra, one of the most dangerous planets in the entire Imperium, had made him acute to even the smallest and most irrelevant of details, or, perhaps he was insane. The third was the most likely.

Constantine looked to his right to be greeted with five pale-skinned, silver-haired, beautiful women with silver eyes. There had once been a man amongst their ranks. One day, he was called to the mistress's room and never seen from again... alive, that is. His skin had been flayed and made into a long loin cloth for the mistress. The women cried for days, only through the Zidonus's guile and Constantine's silver tongue did they managed to keep them safe from the easily annoyed Kabalite warriors and their whores. Indeed, they were a strange bunch. The beauties spoke neither Low Gothic, nor High Gothic. Instead they spoke some other tongue – a very soothing, melodic one. For all the trouble they were worth, they would be useful if Zidonus and Constantine were to try to escape.

Constantine knew little of the Incubus, only that he had come from Commorragh and was once well respected amongst his peers. Constantine suspected there was some underlying tale behind the Eldar's story, but he dared not pursue the truth. Constantine gave the man a few things, however. Respect and admiration were chief amongst these things. The man held himself with impeccable self-control and discipline. Constantine liked him for that, indeed, it was these aspects of the Incubus's personality that set him above the Incubus's fellow Eldar.

The Wych, Isis, was undeniably beautiful; the mistress had made sure to keep it so. The woman had dyed her long hair blue, as per the mistress's wishes. She kept it unbound, so as to emphasize a sort of natural beauty. Constantine had always though that it made sense that the mistress had favored those of her gender. An enlightening talk with the Wych had shed light upon a few notable factoids. Constantine had to admit, even as a human, he had trouble averting his eyes from her slim figure and her flawless face. Then again, his training under the House Helios taught him restraint… and how to snap a man's neck. That and all Eldar had flawless faces, barring the Incubi who harbored a giant, glaring scar on his cheek.

The Exodite Ranger, Kalidos, was a solemn fellow, he kept his head down and his heart closed. Constantine hadn't managed to extrapolate much, other than he had once come from a maiden world on the far edge of the Galaxy. Apparently, the Dark Eldar had a webway portal there. It would appear that Biel-Tan, the Craftworld responsible for their protection, had not warned the Exodites that somebody could use that portal.

The warlock was just an ass. Plain and simple, Constantine had attempted to strike up a conversation with the man. In return he was greeted with an hours worth of political, pro-Eldar, and poorly argued political diatribe (Constantine was infuriated because he hadn't found out the warlock's name). In the days that would follow, the warlock would go out of his way to make Constantine the center of unwanted attention. Constantine swore that if he ever made it out of the Nexus, heads would roll and the warlock's would be first.

The guardian from Saim-Hann was an interesting woman to say the least. She was a talkative woman, but Constantine had been trained well to be able to tolerate and exploit such weakness. Though Constantine had only found out her name later (Elithor it was), he had been able to find out interesting things about her, the politics of Saim-Hann and what it was like to be caught in a web of sexual intrigue with a warp spider aspect warrior. Apparently, she had been placed in an arranged marriage with some big-shot wild rider by her father, the chief of her family. This had come as a shock to her as she was already in a very sexual relationship with a distinguished warp spider. What was her solution to the problem, one may ask? Don her guardian armor and volunteer to be part of a farseer's private entourage. From there she got sucked up into a web of intrigue with the farseer and her lover. Now, this web stretched back all the way to the mistress. To make a long story short, she was sold to the mistress in order to keep Saim-Hann from loosing lives unnecessarily. Constantine thought the story too extraordinary and fantastical; there was a high chance she was lying, the whole story sounded like a fabrication, something a noble's ten year old son would come up with. Constantine couldn't blame her for creating such a story, the Nexus was an incredibly cruel place and the weaker had to find ways to cope with the stress.

Now, the Astartes was an interesting individual. He was a rather merry individual by the name of Gigor, belonging to the Space Sharks chapter. His views on his captors could be summarized by the following words and phrases: "Rip, tear and shred, that's what I'm going to the do once I get out of this cell!" "I wonder what the pretty Eldar is going to do with a pike up his ass, what do you think?" and the famous "I like you, mortal. If I get out of these chains, I'll let you play with xenos' remains." Constantine, though initially put off by his hostile treatment of the Terran, eventually found a pleasant acquaintance quite willing to act as a meat shield.

At last there was the large man, he, like the silver-haired women, could not initially speak gothic. Unlike the women, however, he had struggled through and learnt some; from what Constantine could tell, he went by the name of Stone. Interestingly enough he called the women Echani and could talk to them. The man claimed that he had no knowledge of the Imperium, instead he proclaimed that some political entity known as "the Republic" controlled the majority of the galaxy up until recently in the past, and that he had never heard off the Eldar before. The former gave Constantine suspicions that this man somehow came from before the age of strife, the latter however, gave Constantine sneaking suspicions that the man was lying; the Eldar were the predominant galactic power up until 'the Fall', it would be hard to not know about them at all.

Slowly, Constantine shifted his weight back to his centre and straightened his back down on the floor of his cell, near the left wall. Sleep, as he knew from experience, was one of the few ways one could keep himself from going insane. Thus, Constantine slowly let the darkness overtake him, biding his time and making sure that he would not wake up in a state of shock as had happened when he first came to the accursed realm that was the Nexus of Shadows.

** Author's Notes**

You know, this is a pretty interesting idea, and that's why I'm pursuing it in favor of my other story. Worry not, it shall continue, but, this one takes priority as it is simply easier to write and more easily accessible to new readers. Why is it easier to write? Well, working within set canon helps set up boundaries and rules, something which has plagued chapter two of 'From the Shadows We Rise'. Anyway, please enjoy my new KotOR/40K crossover. If I receive enough requests to do so, I might even broaden the crossover to other universes.

So, all in all, thank you for reading!

- Sonicanpersonallytellyou


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